


The Furthest Thing

by shadesofhades



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 01:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17315273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofhades/pseuds/shadesofhades
Summary: Trapper recieves unsettling news from home.





	The Furthest Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/gifts).



> Written for an ask prompt on Tumblr. Prompt was: a scene where one characters calms down another with Peircytire. She also asked for crying Trapper.
> 
> I had a hard time with this one, I think it was the crying Trapper aspect because he's really not a crier and I struggled to make it work. Not sure I succeeded, but hey. I ficced?

The letter comes sandwiched between a magazine subscription three months too late and a glossy postcard of peaches from a college buddy with the words, “Wish you were here,” thoughtlessly scrawled across the back in a doctor's messy script.

He grumbles at the postcard and tosses it aside before he takes the letter in his hands with the same wary feeling of guilt and dread he always gets whenever Louise sends a letter anymore. Glancing up at Hawkeye on his cot reading a barely worn copy of Nudesweek, Trapper wonders if ten a.m. is too early for a martini, but rather than ask Hawk's opinion he's pouring the vermouth, the long sterling silver spoon clinking against the glass and drawing Hawkeye's attention.

“Letter from your wife?” he asks, his nudist magazine momentarily forgotten in favor of grabbing a glass to join him. Maybe it's guilt at his own part in the wedge that has been driven between Trapper and his wife since he came to Korea, but Hawkeye could always be counted on as a drinking partner whenever a letter came, although the frequency in which the letters came had decreased dramatically in the last few months.

Part of him wonders if maybe she somehow recognized the distance he felt when he wrote back to her, but the more likely story is that she simply had found something or someone else to occupy the thoughts she used to have for him. 

He empties the glass, refills, and repeats until his brain is buzzing and numb, then he perches himself on the edge of his cot, ready to face whatever Louise might have to say to him. Hawkeye takes his glass from his hand, sets it on the table beside the still and settles into his favorite chair to wait for Trapper to open the envelope.

It comes open easily when he pries the edge and unfolds the white paper that looks more than a little crumpled around the edges.

‘Dear John,’ it starts, not ‘Darling,’ like the usual missives he received when he first had the misfortune of coming to Korea, and his name penned in her hand looks almost foreign and cold.

‘The girls and I miss you, Becky most of all. I was hesitant in writing because I didn't wish to worry you unnecessarily, but last night I took Becky to the hospital. She was running a high fever and had chills and I panicked.’ His heart beats loudly in his chest as he reads, dread filling his stomach. ‘The doctor diagnosed her with pneumonia. I know it can be serious in young children and even though they told me her case was mild I can't help but worry about our little Becky.’

He doesn't need to read the rest; his breath is coming in short angry gasps and his chest feels tight as he crumples up the letter in his clenched fist. He's on his feet, across the Swamp and out the door before Hawkeye can even notice something is wrong and come after him.

Hawkeye's shouts fall on deaf ears as he walks across camp and into post-op. He's too angry at himself, too disgusted that his worry had been about his own guilt at his affair rather than worrying about what news the letter might have brought. Instead of thinking of his family -- of his girls that he had always told Hawkeye came first in his life -- his thoughts were on himself. 

He feels selfish and sick as he throws open the door to Radar’s office and stomps inside, the letter still held tight in his curled fingers.

“Radar,” he shouts, reaching out to grab him. 

Radar looks startled and a little scared when he sees Trapper's face and when Trapper catches a momentary flash of his own reflection in his glasses he understands why. The anger at himself and his situation simmering below the surface is mixing with the fear that's tightly wound in his belly and it shows clear as day reflected in his eyes, glossy and wet and his face that is flushed red hot.

He's breathing hard, almost panting and he knows he didn't run here, but his pulse is racing and he just can't seem to stop shaking.

“Trap,” Hawkeye says calmly before he grips the hand that clings desperately to Radar's shirt, the letter he held falling into Radar's lap as his arms go limp.

“Sir?” Radar asks, sounding nervous as he glances behind him at Hawkeye. 

Trapper stares down at the hand slowly pulling his away from Radar, their fingers fitting together before Trapper can find the courage to look him in the eyes.

“Trap?” Hawkeye asks, the worry in his tone chipping away at the anger that he feels. It uncoils quickly like a rope slipping between loose fingers and he feels like he's freefalling as he leans forward against Hawkeye's body, sturdy and solid beneath him despite appearances. This isn't how things are between them, Trapper isn't the one that breaks, that needs someone else to hold him and tell him things are alright. He's always the strong one. But right now his legs are weak as he grips the back of Hawkeye's red robe like it's a lifeline like he's been thrown overboard.

“It's Becky,” he says quietly, hating the quiver that strains his words as Hawkeye folds him into his embrace and tangles his fingers in the short hairs at the base of his neck. “She’s got pneumonia.”

Hawkeye steps backwards and Trapper follows, unable to loosen his hold on Hawkeye even as he leads Trapper to Radar's cot in the corner of the room. 

His face is hot with embarrassment and emotion as Hawkeye settles him down on the edge of the cot and forces his hands to release his robe so he can squat between Trapper's spread thighs. This isn't a new position to them, but it is the first time that it doesn't feel even remotely sexual, as Hawkeye's fingers wipe away the moisture that has collected on his cheeks, his voice calm and steady as Trapper's fingers come up to clutch Hawkeye's against the side of his face, afraid to lose that connection with him. 

He's acutely aware of Radar, not looking but sure as hell listening as Hawkeye speaks.

“What did the doctor say?”

“That her case is mild. But what if her doctor’s a Frank Burns? For all Louise knows he coulda got his diploma outta a crackerjack box.” 

“I doubt there's another doctor as talented at malpractice as Frank,” Hawkeye jokes, but Trapper isn't comforted by the words.

“I didn't wanna open the letter,” Trapper says quietly, his fingers drawing the hand from his cheek down to be clutched between his palms. “I didn't wanna read Louise’s words while I was thinkin’ about…”

He trails off, the ‘you’ going unsaid as he glances at Radar, headset over his ears looking for all the world as if he's just doing his job, but Trapper isn't fooled.

“I hardly think about them anymore, Hawk. I don't think about how they're doin’ in school or how much they've grown. When I got that letter this morning, they were the furthest thing from my mind and now I could… I could lose her.”

He feels pathetic and stupid with tears rolling down his cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair in frustration and tries to stop the tears that fill up his eyes and fall against his will.

He hasn't cried since he was a little boy, but the truth is, he's never felt more helpless and lost as he does in this moment, not even when he'd first gotten his draft letter and he had to tell his girls goodbye for the first time, and what he hoped wouldn't be the last. He had worried about not making it home. He had never worried about his girls not being there to greet him if he did.

Anyone can walk in on them, hell, they already have an audience who's no longer pretending not to listen anymore, but Trapper can't find the will to pull away when Hawkeye leans forward and presses their lips together, however chaste. 

“She'll be fine, Trap,” Hawkeye assures him, wiping away his tears. “Louise is a doctor's wife,” there's a pause, and Trapper can see a flit of emotion there before he moves on. “She might have married one, but she's not an idiot. She knows how important medicine is and I know she's taking Becky’s condition as seriously as you would.”

Hawkeye's right. It doesn't change the fear or guilt, but it helps just the same, the tears slowly dissipating, his face sticky with salt as Hawkeye leans forward and kisses his cheek. 

“Captain McIntyre, sir?” Radar asks nervously, his eyes anywhere but on the two of them, Louise’s letter held in his hand. “I have a call for you from Boston.”

His heart beats faster as he pushes Hawkeye aside and scrabbles to the phone, jamming it up against his ear with a,

“Hello?”

There's a soft cough like someone recovering from a cold on the other end before a small voice, filled with excitement answers, 

“Daddy!” 

And suddenly the fear that has been haunting him since he opened the letter loosens its grip and he smiles wide and honest.

**Author's Note:**

> For more MASH things visit my Tumblr at Captaincaptaincupcakethings


End file.
